Barren
by poetintraining576
Summary: "She felt as though she'd been driving on this road forever. Everything was white, so she couldn't tell how far she'd traveled, how far she had left... she shivered and tugged at her thin knit gloves." A short original piece that incorporates Catholic mythology with a setting reminiscent of Dante's Inferno.


_A/N: An original piece I wrote back in the winter that is being published in the 2014 issue of my school's literary magazine _30 N._ Enjoy!_

Barren

She felt as though she'd been driving on this road forever. Everything was white, so she couldn't tell how far she'd travelled, how far she had left. The long road ahead of her was white, the sky was white, and even the sparse trees along the edge of the highway were nearly white. She shivered and tugged at her thin knit gloves, exposing a fingertip on her left hand. On that same hand, her diamond stretched the glove's fabric.

The snow was coming down worse than earlier, blowing insistently in front of her windshield. She scratched at the side of her face and put both hands on the steering wheel. Ten and two. That was what she had learned in driver's education nearly ten years ago. But even adjusting her grip on the wheel, the old Buick slid on the road. She pumped the brakes as she approached a white octagonal sign, only patches of red showing through. After reaching a complete stop, she accelerated and resumed her initial speed.

The woman cursed as she reached the next stop sign; even going as fast as she was she would be late for her appointment. The snow pulled at her tires, demanding that she keep both hands on the wheel. Regardless, removing a glove, she pulled her phone from the cup holder and swiped across the main screen. She searched through her recent call history, but couldn't find the number. Sighing, she replaced the phone and using her teeth, pulled her glove back on. She forced herself to take a deep breath and replaced her second hand on the wheel. Ten and two.

White used to be a lovely color, she mused. When she had worn it instead of the countryside around her, it had been beautiful. She remembered smiling and laughing and being photographed and hugging and kissing and toasting. But now, and here, there was only colorless cold. And her looming appointment that made her stomach churn. She pressed harder on the gas pedal, and the car sped up.

She could hardly see the intersections, let alone the road signs. She almost wished she had put the St. Christopher medal in her car, but that would have pleased her mother. Besides, St. Christopher didn't care if she was running late. She uttered a noiseless prayer to a nameless deity that she would arrive on time. Maybe someone would listen.

Checking her phone again, the woman looked once more through her call history. Surely they had called to confirm the appointment. She didn't know his number off-hand nor was it in her phone, despite Troy's suggestion that she add it. After all, they might be seeing the doctor quite a bit. She searched received calls, missed calls, even dialed calls, but it wasn't there. Groaning, she threw the phone into the passenger seat, and it bounced onto the floor.

Cold, too cold. She fiddled with the heater, turning up the fan, but after a few minutes, it was still the same temperature in the car, and her feet were cold in their boots. Her teeth chattered as ice and frost began creeping onto the windows. She turned on the defroster, but she doubted it would work. Troy's car was older than hers, and he hadn't had it serviced lately. But hers was in the shop, and he wasn't working at the clinic today. She cursed and flipped off the invisible snow god that caused this mess in the first place. Perhaps she should turn around and head home. She would probably miss her appointment and have to reschedule anyway. But the woman dismissed the thought as soon as she had it; she clenched her fingers tighter around the wheel and gritted her teeth. It had to be today. She had to see the doctor today.

She approached yet another stop sign, with a car to her right reaching the sign just ahead of her. She began braking, but she couldn't push them, couldn't pump them. They were locked. Toxic adrenaline flooded her veins, and she began murmuring. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you, blessèd are you among women, and blessèd is the fruit of your womb..."

As the other car began to accelerate from its stop sign, she tried once more to brake her own car. She tried to turn, but it made the slide worse. She closed her eyes, clutching the wheel, still murmuring a prayer until she felt the impact. Even after the collision, she still sat there in her car, hands on the wheel. She felt as though she'd been driving on this road forever. Everything was white. She shivered and tugged at her thin knit gloves.

Kelly Noel Rasmussen, ©2014


End file.
